


File Updated

by Grania



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:57:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grania/pseuds/Grania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve had a date. In the end he did not miss it, though only because he had a friend who looked out for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	File Updated

**Author's Note:**

> For the sake of this story, let's all assume that S.H.I.E.L.D's (and Jarvis') handling of sensitive data is...easy-going.  
> Thank you.

Thor returned two months after that sensational departure with his brother. Steve had kept in the background that day, he had had too many propaganda shows in his lifetime, and he knew what it was about.  
Thankfully Stark, Tony Stark, older than his father, had attracted almost all attention, and also thankfully there had not been any wings on his own head. 

And honestly, the heavy bike had felt great. They had given it to him as a gift, and he drove it as often as possible.

But Thor. 

He returned, as told, two months later, and joined their team again.  
He did not tell why he returned, or how long he planned to stay, or what they were doing with his brother in that world somewhere far away. All he said, in one of his inimitable speeches that made Stark, Tony Stark,not Howard, snigger, was that he may depart again one day, but that he would like to help their cause for the time being, and no, that he does not want to answer questions about his brother.

Steve did not mind, though he was not overjoyed either. It was only one more piece in his new world, and one more member in that group he was supposed to lead.  
A group that consisted of two spies, two civilians, and as of yesterday, one god, thus consisting of everything that did not want to or was not used to be lead. 

Sometimes a fit of hysterical laughter shook Steve when he thought about that in the vastness of his apartment in Stark Tower, built by the younger Stark, and about the fact that his friends were dead, that he was supposed to know everything, that Peggy was rotting in a home for the elderly, and that he was too scared to go see her. 

Jarvis would always interrupt him as fast as possible, asking whether he could provide him with something, someone, and sometimes it made Steve laugh even more, but most of the time he would calm down again, shake the invisible robot off, and go on with his day. Then later he would get a visit, most of the time by Coulson, sometimes by Hill, or even Fury himself. They would talk to him, and he would answer politely, and then Coulson and Hill would send him on to a psychologist for as many sessions as it needed to convince them that he was sane, and Fury would look at him sternly, nod, and leave again. 

He had turned to Jarvis once.

“Would you stop calling S.H.I.E.L.D every time I cough if I asked you to?”

“No”, was the simple answer, and Steve did not argue.  
Of course Jarvis was programmed to call for help, it was one of Stark’s, the second generation Stark, more thoughtful inventions, because he was prone to alcohol abuse, and, Steve had learnt it fast, he seemed to trust artificial intelligence more than human one.

Not that Steve could not understand that in some way.

He sometimes thought that he should talk about the alcohol with Tony, Howard’s son, and with Bruce about his adjustment to his new home after years on the run, or with Clint about Loki and his guilt, and surely with Natasha too, because she was part of the team, and because he had read her file, but every time he thought about it he heard their lies in his head.  
Tony would joke, just like his father used to, Bruce would want to turn the discussion and let Steve talk about his feelings, Clint would frown and try a joke too, and Natasha would smile, roll her eyes and challenge him to another sparring-match.  
Actually, even thinking about talking to her made him feel nauseous. She reminded him so much of Peggy, except she was a little bit colder and more ruthless.  
But then again, so was the world nowadays.

Thus he kept quiet, did what he was told, acted as he should, and tried to adjust to the cold inside of him.

The change started when Thor returned. Not just the obvious change with an additional inhabitant in the tower, but a shift in their dynamics.  
For one, they started to talk more, at least to Thor, because, contrary to Steve, he was not shy to ask for help when he was overwhelmed.  
Another change was that they started to talk honestly.  
Maybe it was something in Thor’s nature, he was a god, for crying out loud, but Steve had a feeling that they all seemed to open up a little bit around him.

One such moment happened two weeks after his return, in the late afternoon of a Wednesday, when they had just ended a long training.  
They used to spar often, because they were the only ones who could keep up with each other.

“Steve?”

He looked up from his half-untied shoes. “Yes?”

Thor was leaning against the boxing ring. He looked strange in sweaters, and Steve suspected that he did not particularly like that kind of clothes.

“I have never asked you whether it hurt.”

For a moment Steve looked down his body, but he could not see any injury that could warrant that question.

“Hurt what?”

“When you fell from heaven”, Clint threw in from the other bench. He grinned, until Natasha smacked him with his own bow, then only Natasha kept smiling. 

Steve knew the saying, and he groaned and rolled his eyes, but Thor of course did not.

“It was I who came from above, not Steve. And it is not ‘falling’ as you would understand it...it is more like flying.”  
He hesitated for a second. 

“I simply tripped”, he then added and turned half away, his usual sign that he did not like the topic anymore.

Natasha choked down a giggle and hid it behind a cough.  
“It refers to angels”, she then explained. “Christians believe that they are God’s servants, very powerful, and that they sometimes interact as messengers between God and man. Asking whether it hurt when they fell from heaven is a pick-up line...something men use when they’re drunk.”

Thor’s face brightened. “They imply that their adored ones are angels.”

“It’s so old it’s not even funny”, Natasha hurried to explain. “Nobody with two brain cells uses it anymore.” 

They laughed when Clint threatened to shoot an arrow in her general direction.

“I meant whether it hurt when they matched your body to your spirit”, Thor asked once they were inside the elevators, and suddenly Steve did not feel like laughing anymore, and Natasha and Clint made sure to stare at the door and not move one inch. 

“I practise my understanding of Asgardian writing and Jarvis gave me your files”, Thor explained with a warm smile, and for a second Steve feared he might have one of his laughing fits. 

“Yes”, he answered when he felt safe again, because there was nobody here anymore who he wanted to protect, and because Natasha might rat him out anyway. 

“It did. Quite a bit, actually.”

Thor seemed to wait for another answer, and kept smiling at him.

“But it was worth it”, he finally complied himself. 

It was not a question.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Another incident happened a few days later in the kitchen of their common floor, when Steve entered just as Thor tried to make the toaster that was custom-built by Stark, not Howard though, work. It was a complicated monstrosity, with a dozen pockets to keep up with Thor’s appetite, and countless settings to choose from.  
Steve tried to steer clear from it, and he succeeded when Bruce hurried into the kitchen from another door.

“I’ll help you”, he announced, and Thor let go of it before he could break it.  
Again. 

“Thank you, Bruce”, he said cheerfully, and stepped back to let Bruce work his magic. 

Steve walked over to the fridge, and, after some consideration, decided on orange juice.  
When he closed the door he saw that Thor had sneaked up to him, and he almost let the juice fall. 

“Forgive me”, he said with his usual smile.

“No problem.”

The toaster started to hum behind them, and they sat down at the counter while Bruce prepared water for one of his herbal teas. 

Steve opened a newspaper and tried to read, but he felt Thor’s gaze on him, and barely managed one line.

“You were changed in the middle of a big war, were you not?”, Thor finally asked. 

Steve suppressed a sigh. Maybe he should just tell him that he did not like that subject.  
“Yes”, he answered instead. “1942, a few months after the USA entered the war.”

“And you fell before the war ended?”

He slowly put the paper down on the counter. Opposite him Bruce was leaning against the counter, waiting for his water, and he looked curiously between the two of them.  
“Two years later, yes. One year before it was over.”

The toaster played the intro to “We are the champions” and a dozen poptarts popped out. Thor picked a plate from the cupboard and started to stack them on top of each other.  
“I only ask because it is so hard to understand for me”, he admitted, and offered a poptart to Bruce before he sat down again. 

Steve tried a grin and examined his hands. “Is my age catching up?”

Thor shoved the plate to him, and he accepted one too. Bruce’s kettle started to hiss.

“Not at all”, Thor answered. “And that is what I mean. You are the best tactician I have ever met, besides my father maybe, you lead your men wisely and without selfishness, and you learnt all this by yourself. You are a hero far bigger than most warriors of the legends, Captain.”

Steve did not answer, he did not know what anyway.  
Across the counter, now with a steaming cup and a poptart, Bruce was grinning at him. 

“I did have training”, Steve finally managed. “They did not send us out unprepared.”

“At that time it meant four months running through dirt and learning how to shoot on a target”, Bruce chimed in unhelpfully. And because Thor had still trouble with earth-time: “Just as a little comparison: You were gone for two months when you brought Loki back.”

Apparently it was more than Thor could apprehend, and he abandoned his poptarts in order to stare at Steve.

“It’s really not...”, he tried to wave off the praise. 

Bruce was still smiling. “Thor’s right, I never really thought about it. I think it’s something only another warrior could appreciate, we others just don’t have an eye for it...especially me.”  
He hid his faltering smile behind the mug.

Thor looked strangely vexed too, and for a while Steve helplessly nibbled on his poptart, hoping that something would rescue him. 

“Yours is a strange world”, Thor finally sighed, and apparently his train of thought had ended and he turned to Bruce.

“How are your blue dishes?”

“Still blue”, Bruce answered.

“And that is not good?”

“No, I hope they’ll change colour eventually.”

Thor smiled expectantly, and did not break eye contact until Bruce, with a faint smile, pushed the mug aside and explained the experiment.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The third time Steve was alone with Thor was the most unnerving one. At least so far, but Steve knew better than to expect peace.

It was late one evening in fall, he was alone on his floor, doodling at the table and listening to a crappy tv-show to fill the silence. 

“Sir, Thor is currently approaching your floor with elevator three”, Jarvis suddenly announced.

He almost dropped his pen. “Thanks”, he managed, and quickly closed the sketch book before the elevator opened.

Thor was barefoot and in what looked to be his pyjama, and for a moment, a very long moment, Steve feared that it might get awkward.

“Am I disturbing?”, Thor asked, and stopped in the elevator door.

Steve scrambled to his feet. “No, not at all. Come in.”

Not for the first time he cursed the size of the living room that made any encounter of less than seven persons simply painful.  
Thor of course felt none of that, he was smiling as usual, though it looked maybe a little bit tense, Steve could not really tell from the distance.

“I have come to talk with you”, he began when he was only halfway across the room. “I mean, if you allow it.”

“Sure, why not?”, Steve shrugged nervously, and just as they both sat down at the table he remembered that he had not offered him anything to drink. He wondered whether he still should, but Thor’s sudden earnest gaze made him hesitate. 

“How can I help?”, he asked instead.

Thor shook his head. “I want to help you.”

“With what?”

“I think you do not get the help you deserve.”

Steve was confused. “Because I don’t need any.” He started to feel strangely annoyed.

Thor shook his head. “You have never thought about the consequences.”

“Of what?”

Thor looked truly sorry. “My friend, when they changed your body...” He struggled for words for a moment. “The friends that you lost in the war, they will not stay the only ones. You age slowlier than other humans. The friends that you now have will die, and their children and grandchildren will die, and you will still be here. I am afraid you do not know what that means.”

And suddenly the pieces fell into place.

“I did not sleep in ice like you”, Thor continued, “but when I was young and visited Midgard for the first time and met humans, I stayed with them, and we became friends. And one day father ordered me back home, and I went only for a little while, only to calm his aner, and when I came back nobody even remembered the names of my friends anymore. They had died long ago. Then I felt the same way you do now.”

Steve slowly leant back in his chair, struggling for words.  
Something scratched his throat from the inside, and something heavy sat down on his chest.

“You think we are not your friends...”, Thor began.

“Yes, I do!”, Steve almost yelled, and Thor raised his hands.

“I know how somebody looks like who misses the past”, he said, as honest as usual. “I was like that too, a long time ago.”

The scratching moved to Steve’s eyes, and he swallowed hard. 

“What can I do?”

“Most of all: Do not compare them. You always look strangely at the Director and friend Tony.”

This time, Steve could not fight the laughter, and Thor frowned and looked at him with worry.

“When I see Fury I always see my instructor when I first joined the army”, he laughed, and tears streamed down his face. “They’re both intimidating...and somehow I just wait to feel the same trust with Fury as I felt with the Colonel, but I don’t ever...even though I’m sure he would have made the exact same decisions had he faced Loki’s army.”

Thor waited silently until Steve could go on.

“And Tony of course reminds me of his father, even though Howard was younger and...and happier when I last saw him. But from what I’ve learnt it looks as if he became just as cynical as his son later...”

The laughter died down, and with it the tears, though he felt just as miserable as before. He stood up and walked to a shelf to grab a tissue, but instead of going back to the chair he walked over to the window front, and looked outside at the new New York.

“I know it is not what you have wished for...”, Thor began again, but this time Steve interrupted him.

“I didn’t wish many things”, he chuckled. “I didn’t wish to be a dancing monkey, I didn’t wish to be special...I wanted to serve my country, and I wanted to be one of many. And all I became was an abomination.”

Behind him, the chair scratched over the floor, and then Thor was by his side, and his warm hand came down on his shoulder.

“You are not, friend Steve. And we will tell you that until you believe it. But it was not what I meant.”

Steve turned around and looked at him.

Thor continued: “I wanted to say that you may not have wished for your lot, but it is bearable. What is unbearable, and always will be, is the regret. You will regret many things, and you will have enough time to think about it. Do not accumulate more than you need to.”

For a second Steve stared at him with a deep frown.

“Seriously, Jarvis?”, he then exclaimed. “We need to talk about privacy, because that was not in my file!”

Now Thor was frowning too. “Friend Jarvis did not tell me. I heard it from Agent Coulson.”

Steve closed his eyes and leant his head against the window. Suddenly he felt very tired.

“Forgive me, Jarvis.”

“No problem, sir. You had reason to suspect it was me.”

Steve kept his eyes closed, concentrated on his breathing, and hoped that maybe Thor would just grow tired and leave.

“It’s not that easy”, he finally whispered when Thor stayed silent. “She’s not...she’s not Peggy anymore, you know. Sometimes, when humans get very old, they lose their memory. She wouldn’t know me anymore.”

Thor hardened his grip on Steve’s shoulder until he opened his eyes again.

“All I know”, he said, “is that I regret the things I never did more than the things I did.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So there I was, still without shoes, Pepper fuming like a volcano, fishing for her purse in the pond, that Chinese contractor having a heart attack while steering the golf buggy right at the terrace of the restaurant, and the caddy was still stuck in the tree. And then, I swear...”

“What is a caddy?”, Thor interrupted. He was the only one on board who hung on Tony’s lips, and the only one who enjoyed it. 

Steve closed his eyes again and zoned Tony’s story out. It would have been easier had they closed the door to the cockpit, but that would have been rude.  
The stewardess at the other end of the plane was fighting a hopeless combat with sleep, and though Steve felt exhausted deep down he could not let go because anxiety kept him awake. 

His thoughts drifted off, and he needed a while to understand that Tony was speaking to him.

“Thor, could you shake Gramps for me?”, was the first thing he realised, and he jerked up.

“No need”, he hurried to say before Thor, compliant as ever, could do it. “What is it?”

“I was asking whether you’re up for a little trip north after your visit? I know a nice castle in the highlands with a wonderful golf park. Actually, I think I own it. Anyway, Thor and I want to play golf.”

Steve sighed into his hand and rubbed his eyes. “I...okay, I guess. Whatever you want.”  
On any other occasion he would have probably protested, and asked to return on the same day, because it was in the middle of the week, and they needed to be in New York in case something happened, but at that moment he could not muster the strength to care.  
Tony had the sensitivity to shut up for one blessed minute, then he started to banter with Thor again, and slowly Steve slipped into a short slumber. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It stank. The whole building stank of waste, and decay, and disinfection.  
He had heard the laments of course, that old people are not treated the same as they used to back in the good days.  
Of course he also did not believe it, because contrary to everybody else around him, his memory of the good days was still fresh.

Anyway, it did not help against the ache in his chest, and the overwhelming feeling of sadness, as he walked through the bleak corridor of the building where he would meet Peggy. 

He had almost jumped out of the car on the way from the airport when the thought had hit him, that he would see her for real, and for the last time. 

Tony and Thor had left him in the lobby, and he was now following a nurse. Too soon they stopped in front of one of the countless doors, and let him enter.

“She is very tired and doesn’t recognise people anymore”, she whispered with a friendly smile, and looked tenderly to the messy blanket in the hospital bed in the middle of the room.  
A vase with three roses and a framed colour-picture were the only thing that looked not sterile.  
His breath hitched for a moment as his brain tried to connect the young, strong woman with the small bundle lying in front of him. 

“It’ll be over soon”, the nurse continued. “It’s going fast now...one weeks ago she could still walk, now she can barely swallow.”

Steve knew she had family, children and grandchildren, and even a great-grandchild, and that she would not die alone, and yet he wanted to stay with her until the end, and he would have let the whole world go down for that.  
The door closed behind him and he realised that the nurse had disappeared. 

A chair with worn-down padding was waiting next to the bed, he sat down and watched her.  
Only her face was visible between blanket and pillow. She was haggard, only flesh and bone, and her red lips were now pale and thin. They were half-open, and she breathed unsteadily and shallowly. Her hair, white as the pillow below her head, was cut short.  
Nobody had time to take care of it anyway.

Uncried tears tickled in his nose, and the sniffing, the only thing louder than their breathing, woke her up.  
She needed a moment to focus her gaze, and he feared that she would fall asleep again, but then her eyes lit up, and they were under heavy lids, under deep shadows, but they shone golden again, just like in their days.

“I knew you’d come”, she whispered coarsely, and he had to bend closer to understand her. She could barely move her lips anymore.

“Though I fear you’re too late for the dance.” 

Her accent was still the same. She breathed out and closed her eyes again. He could not avert his eyes from her, he never wanted to leave her side again. Wet drops appeared on the bedsheet and his hands. 

“Will you hold my hand for a while?”

The blanket beneath her rustled, and softly, afraid that he would break her, he laid his hand on hers.  
It was frail and so cold, but slowly it warmed, and she smiled before she closed her eyes and fell asleep again. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was another nurse who ended his visit when she entered and asked him to leave because it was time for dinner, and, when she saw his face, offered him to return on another day.  
He did not know what he had done with the time with her, probably only breathed, and stared, and tried to memorise every wrinkle around her eyes, and he did not know how he found the hall with the big sliding doors again, but then he was outside in the sun, and his eyes and his heart hurt, and Thor and Tony stood up from their bench.  
Tony folded the newspaper he had been reading, careful to avoid his eyes, and for once he was silent and contained.

He only knew again when Thor tore him close and wrapped his arms around him, and when he knew again he could not hold back anymore.  
He clung to Thor, and muffled his sobs in Thor’s shoulder, and neither of them said anything, but he felt the warmth of Thor’s arm on his shoulder and neck, and his hand stroking his back, and he did not need to know more. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was dusk when they returned to New York.  
Tony had not talked about golf anymore, thankfully.  
The common floor was brightly lit when they entered. The noise of several people cooking came from the kitchen and Steve followed Thor’s and Tony’s lead. 

“I didn’t know you could cook”, Tony remarked when they entered the scene. Natasha took three seconds from juggling four frighteningly hissing and smoking pans on the stove to roll his eyes at him.  
Bruce smiled, but did not interrupt with the cutting of cucumbers, corn and tomatoes for what looked to be a real salad from a real lettuce that had never seen a plastic bag.  
Clint, who was cutting brownies out of the tray and stacking them on a plate, was the only one to deign it with an answer. 

“Not all of us had personal chefs who fulfilled every wish.”

“Such a pity”, Tony answered. “Because then you’d know that I still have him, and that you’re doing his work.”

“You could deck the table instead of just standing around”, Natasha yelled over the noise in front of her, but of course it was Steve who followed her order, while Tony started to pester Bruce, and Clint had to battle Thor who wanted to eat one of the brownies.

She grabbed his hand when he passed her to reach the cupboard with the plates, only for one second.  
She smiled.

“I like borscht after a hard mission”, she said, and turned back to her pans. “But I guess you have to be used to it. Clint suggested steaks.”

“Steak is perfect”, he answered.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was almost two weeks later, when Steve had just returned to the tower after a visit to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, that Jarvis spoke up. 

“Sir, Mrs. Margaret Carter’s file has been updated.”

He stopped mid-movement, with one shoe hanging on his foot, and tried to wrap his head around the announcement. 

“Please accept my condolences.”

The shoe fell down, he jerked, and suddenly life went on, his heart pumped, and he felt the emptiness around him.  
He choked.

“Thank you”, he managed.

Only when the doors opened to Thor’s floor did he realise that he was still wearing one shoe.


End file.
